Still working my ass off. Having slightly less fun. But making progress. Every day, another half step forward in being a mature company capable of handling this amount of work. And work is all I have to talk about right now. I know - Booo-ring!!!! But what can I tell you? I'm an engineer. Getting the new pneumatic system set up in the shop is kind of a turn-on.
OK, so we got these new air tools and I bought a cheap hardware store compressor to run them and see how they worked. The tools worked great, so I bought two more. Meanwhile the compressor was driving us insane with its constant hammering buzz. Also, the hoses and extension cords dragging around on the floor were not cool. I called in a crew and we installed a compressor twenty times as powerful with a mature meaty throb when it runs, which is about twice a day due to its twenty-six gallon air tank. Air and power now distribute along the rafters and drop down at the workstations. I do rock, yes I do.
We are all so relieved that the old compressor is gone. I'm sitting side by side with James doing some paperwork when the new compressor kicks on, filling the shop with a throbbing that, while loud, is positively soothing compared to its predecessor. "I'm going to marry that compressor." I mutter. James says "but think of the children." "You're right" I say, "If it's a daughter I would have to keep her under lock and key. All the boys would be pounding on the door once they figured out she can suck-start a Harley." A good laugh out of James. Then he mentions a comedy routine he had just heard about "Fuckable objects." So I launch into an old Dice Clay routine about masturbating with food. "We're having liver tonight." "Yeah, Ma. I had the liver already. You should try it with applesauce. Oh, and we're out of Mayo again."
Apparently my timing was on today. I've never made him laugh so hard. His face was beet red and David came in from the shop to make sure he was OK. His breathing was so messed up he was getting dizzy. God, that was great.
OK, so we got these new air tools and I bought a cheap hardware store compressor to run them and see how they worked. The tools worked great, so I bought two more. Meanwhile the compressor was driving us insane with its constant hammering buzz. Also, the hoses and extension cords dragging around on the floor were not cool. I called in a crew and we installed a compressor twenty times as powerful with a mature meaty throb when it runs, which is about twice a day due to its twenty-six gallon air tank. Air and power now distribute along the rafters and drop down at the workstations. I do rock, yes I do.
We are all so relieved that the old compressor is gone. I'm sitting side by side with James doing some paperwork when the new compressor kicks on, filling the shop with a throbbing that, while loud, is positively soothing compared to its predecessor. "I'm going to marry that compressor." I mutter. James says "but think of the children." "You're right" I say, "If it's a daughter I would have to keep her under lock and key. All the boys would be pounding on the door once they figured out she can suck-start a Harley." A good laugh out of James. Then he mentions a comedy routine he had just heard about "Fuckable objects." So I launch into an old Dice Clay routine about masturbating with food. "We're having liver tonight." "Yeah, Ma. I had the liver already. You should try it with applesauce. Oh, and we're out of Mayo again."
Apparently my timing was on today. I've never made him laugh so hard. His face was beet red and David came in from the shop to make sure he was OK. His breathing was so messed up he was getting dizzy. God, that was great.
Yeah, I'd definitely expect you'd be one of those who'd definitely appreciate this situation with the surgery. Mystery ailments are no fun. Surgery, also no fun, but it can beat the hell out of the alternatives.